


Hold Me Tight

by shakespeareishq



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Benny being literally perfect, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Pining, tiny mention of hell and Alistair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespeareishq/pseuds/shakespeareishq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean misses purgatory, though maybe not for the reasons he should.</p><p>Thankfully Benny is there for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Tight

**Author's Note:**

> Quick unbeta'd thing I banged out in like an hour which was bascially a headcanon/plot bunny that got away from me oops :P

Sleeping curled into Benny's side just made sense in Purgatory. The nights got cold, they couldn't risk burning a fire for very long lest they drew unwanted attention to themselves, and it's not like the place had blankets or pillows. Benny could keep watch for nasty things in the night and be right there to alert Dean if they needed to flight or flee.

So it made sense.

What makes less sense, to Dean, is why, now that they're back and sleeping in separate bedrooms like one would expect of two grown-ass men, it feels like someone's hacked his damn arm off. Dean does sleep. Eventually. Every couple of days, after enough booze and his body losing the strength to keep awake. It's not even that he's paranoid that something will come after him while he's vulnerable. Hell, he's been paranoid about that since he was fifteen. It's just now that he has a room of his own it's  _quiet_. Even before purgatory he was used to Sam's breathing in the next bed over as a constant reminder that Dean wasn't alone. Even in hell he...well he doesn't like to think about that. But he was never alone. And unlike Sam and unlike Alistair Benny gave Dean all he had. Not without his own escape in mind of course but there was still something very _pure_ about Benny's intentions. Sam has the whole 'family obligation' thing going for him, at war with the need to be his own person independent of who his father and brother expect him to be, and it took Dean a long time but he's ok with that. They've figured out how to be brothers in a way that works for them. And Alistair? Well he'd wanted plenty of things from Dean and all of them are still enough even now to wake him in a cold sweat from the few hours of fitful rest he does manage.

But then there was Benny. And then there wasn't Benny. And then there was Benny again, newly installed in his own room in the bunker (which Sam had bitched about for a straight week, but fuck Sam anyways. Benny's a better cook than either of them and that alone is worth putting up with bitchface #296 until Sam gets his head out of his ass) and every night that he's been with them Dean's been, well, lurking. Trying to work up the courage to just knock on the damn door and tell Benny that he--

He doesn't know what he's going to tell Benny.

Not that it matters cause he's never actually going to knock on that door anyways. 

Dean turns to head towards his own room but this time he's stopped in his tracks because Benny is speaking to him.

"Dean? I know you're out there."

"Yeah, sorry man I was just on my way to bed."

"Dean," Benny's tone is gentle, even muffled through the door, "you've been standing out there for ten minutes. You've been standing out there every night for the last two weeks. Why don't you come in and we can chat, alright?" 

And Dean thinks he can probably manage that. Just a chat. Sounds simple enough. Not like he's going to burst into tears and go crawling into Benny's arms and into his bed or get down on his knees and...just a chat. Right. 

Benny’s room is sparser than Dean’s—it’s not like the guy has anything much in the way of personal possessions—but it still manages to look cozy. Like really cozy. Maybe Dean is projecting a little. Benny’s sitting on top of the covers with a book face down at his side, in nothing but his henley and his boxers. Dean’s never actually seen Benny’s bare legs before. He hopes he isn’t staring too much.

Lacking a chair for Dean to sit in, Benny just scoots closer to the wall and pats the space on the bed he’d vacated in invitation, and Dean’s so not ready to be that close (even though that is indeed the thing he wants desperately, more than he can really put into words) so he just stays standing by the door, and if Benny’s offended that Dean turned down the hospitality he doesn’t show it.

Dean figures he’s supposed to say something. “How did you know I was out there?”

Benny gives him a fond smile. “Your heart was beating fit to jump out your chest brother.” Benny tap taps his finger just under his ear as a subtle reminder that he has supernatural hearing and, shit, of _course_ he knew Dean was there the whole time. Maybe a portal to purgatory will choose this moment to open under his feet and save him. Battling monsters for eternity suddenly sounds far more appealing than trying to figure out what exactly he wants out of this conversation. What he wants out of Benny.

Dean feels his face grow hot, because apparently he is a fucking schoolgirl now. He wonders if Benny has any reaction to the blood coloring his face and neck. He wonders if Benny ever thinks about his neck, or about him.

Dean is saved from further embarrassment by Benny choosing to speak again. “Don’t mind me sayin’ this, but you’ve been looking all stretched thin lately, like not enough butter on too much toast. Come now, tell me what’s the matter, yeah? I know I’ve been feedin’ you good but are you sleeping?” Met with further silence he repeats, “come on now brother, you haven’t been trying to come talk to me for no reason.”

Benny is endlessly patient and endlessly kind and Dean does not deserve him. So he tries to run away, because that’s what he’s good at. “You know what Benny it’s really—it’s nothing. I was just gonna. But it’s nothing. I’m sorry I bothered you man, I’ll just go on to bed.”

Benny of course sees right through the bullshit and calls him on it before Dean can make his retreat. “You came here for something Dean. ‘s alright, I kinda figured it was comin’. I know Sam’s not happy about me being here and I know you two aren’t getting along and if you need me to clear out just say the word and—”

And Dean just has to stop him because Benny’s got it _all wrong_ —“Benny no, that’s not it at all! God, don’t go anywhere. Please.”

Benny has the good sense to look about as confused as Dean feels. He lets Dean find his own words this time.

“I just,” might as well out with it, the worst Benny can do is leave and he already seems half prepared for that anyways “you’re right, I haven’t been sleeping. Not since we got to the bunker I guess. Everything’s just so _quiet_ here it’s driving me up the wall Benny and I just want, I feel like I need to just—” the phrase ‘be with you’ sticks in his throat and nothing he can do right now will pull it out.

But Benny, bless him, must be some kind of mind reading vampire (there’s a thought) because he takes a long searching look at Dean, his tired eyes, his flushed skin, the way he can’t quite look Benny in the face, and pats the bed again.

“Oh sweetheart, you should’ve told me.”

That’s what breaks Dean. ‘Sweetheart.’ Not his name, not friend, not brother. Benny’s talking to a lover. He’s talking to _Dean_. Dean crosses over to the bedside faster than he probably meant to and then Benny’s reaching for him, holding Dean’s hand as he climbs in beside him under the covers, wasting no time in tucking Dean in close to his chest, arm coming around Dean’s back for support and Dean clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

This isn’t how they were in purgatory, Dean huddling close to Benny for warmth and protection and, ultimately, necessity. This is clearly intimate and sweet and so fucking _perfect_ Dean thinks he could almost cry from the sheer relief he feels. This is ok. Benny wants him close, wants to be intimate and call him sweetheart and run his big warm fingers through Dean’s hair.

It’s ok.

The tension drains out of him in a sigh as he visibly relaxes in Benny’s arms. Benny looks at him with a wide open grin Dean hadn’t seen on a human face since he saw his own parents give it to each other in a time before he was even technically born. His own smile is weaker, though the sentiment is the same.

“There now, I’ll bet that’s a damn sight better isn’t it?”

Dean just nods, nose brushing Benny’s shoulder. Fuck Benny smells good.

Benny keeps stroking his hair and murmuring little soothing encouragements in Dean’s ear and suddenly all the exhaustion he’d been repressing since Benny arrived hits him in a wave. Still, he tries to stay awake, because he thinks that this is possibly important, the first moments of a new relationship. He is probably supposed to be kissing Benny or something. He is, at the very least, supposed to be _conscious_.

But as soon as Benny notices Dean is now actively fighting sleep he puts a stop to it. “Sugar you need the rest. Close your eyes now, I’ll be right here when you wake up. No, Dean,” he hushes the token protest, “Don’t you worry sweetheart. We have all the time in the world.”

As Benny reaches to turn out the light and Dean loses his battle with the waking world he thinks, ‘yeah, I guess we do.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
